


Exodus

by theaquean



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bellarke, CIA, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2731049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaquean/pseuds/theaquean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy Blake is an esteemed agent at the C.I.A., and is charged with extracting information on a powerful and corrupt businessman in New York City. However, the mission backfires and Bellamy's identity is compromised, causing his wife, Clarke Griffin, to be kidnapped by the people Bellamy was trying to expose. With his enemies closing in and the C.I.A. trying desperately to keep their cover, Bellamy must find his way to Clarke before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“It’s quite impressive that a man of your age is interested in modern art, Mr Blake.”

“Please, call me Bellamy. My mother was a fan, and I think it must have rubbed off on me. You have quite a collection, if I can say, Mr Wallace.”

“If I can call you Bellamy, you can call me Dante.”

In front of Bellamy stood Dante Wallace, one of the most respected and influential men in New York City. He was near fifty, but looked in his thirties, his blonde hair trim and neat. He wore an expensive black suit, his left ear was pierced by a single diamond, and a thick silver Rolex shone on his wrist.

Bellamy glanced around the gallery, the champagne in his hand cool and slippery. He was in the Wallace Theatre, the largest formal hall in New York and Wallace’s pride and joy. Artwork lined the walls, and guests wearing cocktail gowns and bowties plucked canapés off silver trays seemingly moving on their own. The waiters were shadows that slipped past without a sound, the chandeliers glittered like a dragon’s hoard, and heels clicked on the tiled floor, the sound mixing with the regal chatter.

But Bellamy Blake barely noticed any of the grandeur around him. He saw the guards, stiff like cardboard cut-outs, two at each major door. He saw the nearly invisible intercom snaking up Dante Wallace's head, and felt his own wireless one like a weight in his outer ear. He saw the security cameras disguised as decorations on the ceiling, the waiters with recorders in the frames of their glasses, and the tiny microphones documenting every word glued to the inside of the paper bracelets every guest wore. _Everyone inside is a threat to you, Dante,_ he thought.

“Would you like me to take you on a tour, Bellamy?” Dante asked.

“I would appreciate that,” Bellamy said, forcing a grin.

Dante led him over to a huge painting of what appeared to be squares, although Bellamy had begun to realise modern art was rarely anything recognisable. He pretended to study the piece while he scanned the room, counting all the doors in the hall. _14._

“This piece was done by Gabriel Keane,” Dante indicated the squares, and Bellamy turned back to the artwork. “He’s a fairly new artist. He released this as his first public work, titled “Infinite”. He’s a good friend of mine.”

Bellamy nodded at the piece. “It’s an interesting painting.”

“Isn’t it,” Wallace looked at the art like he was discovering the meaning of life, but was interrupted by a short balding man in a blue suit.

“Dante, may I borrow you for a minute?” the blue man wheezed, before launching into a speech about the ‘opportunities in going global’ without waiting for a reply. Dante looked back at Bellamy apologetically, but the younger man nodded his head in understanding. Turning back to the artwork, he rocked back onto his left heel and felt the _click_ of a small button. The intercom in his ear buzzed to life.

“Agent Blake, this is Agent Jordan. How’s the party going?”

“It would be better if you could join me, kid,” Bellamy muttered into the microphone in his collar. “Or I could ditch the suit.”

On the other end of the line, Jasper laughed. “You know the rules, Bellamy. Techs don’t get field work. Three doors to the left, up two flights of stairs, the double redwood doors at the end of the hall.”

“Copy that.” Bellamy strolled past some more unidentifiable pieces of art, stopping next to the door indicated by the other agent. Luckily the door was small, ignored by the security. He discretely scanned the room, making sure no one was paying him too much attention, before slipping through into the room on the other side.

The buzz of the party was quieter on the other side of the door. He moved quickly, taking the stairs two at a time. Bellamy could hear Jasper disabling the cameras in the stairwell; he had exactly ten minutes before Regent’s techs brought them back online.

The redwood doors weren't hard to spot. They were huge, with gold knobs and a gold plaque on the right hand door, reading _Dante Wallace, CEO._

Bellamy had the doors unlocked in a few seconds. The office on the other side was bland, a contrast from the gold trim and obvious wealth displayed in the hall. The desk was plain wood, placed in the exact centre of the room, with three drawers on either end. A filing cabinet stood in the corner, and a plain office chair stood behind the laptop on the desk. Other than the necessary items, the office was empty.

Bellamy pulled on his black latex gloves and set to work. He moved though the filing cabinet, then the drawers in the desk, but came up with nothing. Turning to the computer, he sat down and opened the lid.

“Jasper, can you hack into Regent’s laptop?” he said.

Jasper laughed. “You make this job too easy Bellamy.”

The computer screen flickered blue and pink before opening the home screen. Bellamy expertly moved through files, his fingers flying over the keys. Unbeknownst to him, a small green light started flashing next to the webcam.

“Hey, Jasper,” Bellamy said. “I think I got something.”

“Hover over the file,” the tech instructed. “Got it. Move out now, you have thirty seconds until the cameras come back up.”

Bellamy slid back into the party seamlessly. He pulled off his gloves, downed a fresh glass of champagne, and made his way calmly out the door. The green light next the webcam continued to flash on and off.

* * *

“Sir, we have a security breach,” the intercom in Dante Wallace’s ear crackled.

Excusing himself from the board member in the blue suit, Dante made his way into the security office. A man in his twenties looked up when he came in.

“Someone hacked into your computer, sir,” he stammered. “They copied a file over to a secondary location.”

“Which file?” Dante said roughly.

The man hesitated. “Tell me which file!” the older man said.

“They took the, uh, plans for the Exodus Project. Sir”

Dante took a deep breath. “Did you trace them?”

“I didn’t need to,” the man replied. “Whoever did this forgot to disable your webcam. We have them on video.”

“Bring the video up.”

Dante Wallace didn't even blink when Bellamy Blake’s face flashed across the screen. His years in business had taught him that new people are spies more often than not. He had also been taught how to deal with spies.

“Mr Blake has a wife,” Dante said, and briskly left the room.

* * *

Bellamy had said he would be home late. _A work function,_ Clarke recalled. _Another bloody work function._

She almost didn’t mind though. With Bellamy out of the house Clarke was free to watch her cheesy soap operas and drink wine in her dressing gown, a luxury she rarely could afford. She also could have whatever she wanted for dinner, even the spiciest dish from the Indian restaurant a few minutes away. Bellamy hated spicy food.

Clarke was just settling down with her wine when there was a knock at the door. Swearing under her breath, she got up and answered it to a man in a messy suit.

 “Are you Clarke Griffin?” he asked, shifting from foot to foot.

“Yes,” she replied nervously. “Do I know you?”

The man immediately flattened his pose. “No, but I know your husband.”

Clarke didn’t see the blow coming until the barrel of the pistol collided with her temple. The night sky bled into her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Bellamy noticed when he got home was the front door. It swung in the soft breeze, wide open. He pulled his gun out of the holster on his ankle.

He carefully made his way inside before flicking on the lights. The rest of the house was the way it had looked when Bellamy left for work that afternoon, apart from the blaring TV, the untouched wine on the side table and Clarke’s silver necklace lying on the floor of the hall.

“Clarke?” he called out, even though he knew what had happened. Instead of her familiar voice ringing out from down the hall, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Bellamy opened the message. The five words on the screen sent a ball of lead into his stomach. _Identity compromised. Proceed with 204._

Grabbing Clarke’s necklace from the floor, he slammed the door behind him and swung into his car. “Screw your protocols,” he said, his hand clutching the tiny silver crown strung on the chain. The engraving on the back read _for my Princess._

* * *

 

Clarke was bound and dumped in the back of a metal container, probably a truck. The air smelt of sweat, rust and alcohol, the type used for cleaning. She tried not to think about the reason for the smell.

The bag over her head was beginning to heat up, and the tie on her wrist was rubbing her skin raw. Clarke had tried everything they tried in the movies: feeling for tail lights, looking for objects to cut her bonds with, but the container was completely sealed in and empty.

“You better hurry your ass up,” she whispered to no one.

* * *

 

Bellamy’s phone rang in his pocket. He quickly checked the caller I.D. before accepting the call.

“Jasper,” he gasped. “I thought you were the director. I nearly had a heart attack.”

“You may as well have one!” Jasper practically yelled into the phone. “What are you thinking? Wallace knows who you are, Bellamy. He could go after us, Clarke-“

“He already took her,” Bellamy said darkly.

Jasper was silent on the other end of the line. “Shit,” a third voice muttered. “Shit, that’s not good.”

“Monty, I need everything we have on Wallace. All his houses, his friends, his boats, his mother’s name, everything.”

“Everything, got it,” Monty said.

“Jasper, keep the director off my ass for as long as possible, got it? I need all the time I can get to find her.”

“Yes sir,” the younger man said, although he didn’t sound happy about it.

“Are you really going after her?” Monty asked.

Bellamy swallowed. “No one touches Clarke and gets away with it. Not even the richest man in New York City.”

* * *

 

The director of the C.I.A. sat in her black leather desk chair, staring like daggers were coming out her eyes across the table at Jasper Jordan. Jasper shifted in his own slightly less imposing chair, eyeing off Agent Murphy lurking in the corner. He noticed a stray wisp of brown hair hanging from the director’s bun.

“Where is Agent Blake?” the director asked.

Jasper shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Agent Jordan, I give you and Agent Green a get out of jail free card when it comes to what you use our computers for. The only thing I ask in return is honesty. I was trained to tell when people are lying.”

She leant further over the desk. “Don’t lie to me, Jasper.”

The other agent remained silent. “Do you know what protocol 204 declares, Agent Jordan?”

Jasper shook his head. “In the case of an outside party uncovering, learning of or being informed of an agent’s identity, the profile of the agent is removed from all C.I.A. databases and public records. He slash she is to abandon all belongings and immediately vacate the country using the emergency vault the C.I.A. provides. Agent Blake followed none of these guidelines, even after being informed of the situation.

“Tell me where he is, Agent Jordan. It will make things easier for all parties involved.”

“I promised him I wouldn’t tell you where he was.”

“Jasper, lives are at risk. Tell me where Agent Blake has gone.”

When Jasper said nothing, the director leant back in her chair and sighed. “He went after his wife, didn’t he?”

The director nodded at Jasper’s silence. “That will be all.”

After Jasper had left, the director sat at her desk for a few minutes, trying to find a way out of the sticky mess Blake had thrown them all into.

“Do you want to bring him in, director?” Agent Murphy asked.

“No,” she said. “That will only complicate things further. I need you find him and help him.”

John Murphy looked stunned. “No disrespect, director, but won’t that leave us with more exposed agents than we could handle?”

“Not if you’re careful,” the director replied. “If we let Blake go by himself, everything we worked to achieve will be undone. Locate the girl, find a reason for Blake to be distracted and get her out yourself. I need the utmost discretion from you, Agent Murphy. Our secret is to remain that, a secret, do you understand?”

“Even from Blake?”

“Especially from Blake,” she said. “You leave at 0700 sharp tomorrow morning. You are dismissed.”

Director Reyes looked at her own bare ring finger. She had always known love couldn’t be a factor in her line of work. _It can be used to break you,_ the previous director had told her. She dismissed the churning in her stomach and focused on fixing the mistake Bellamy didn’t know he was making.

* * *

 

Monty and Jasper sent Bellamy the information he needed the next morning. He paid the owner of the motel for the room before heading out to his car. He stopped in his tracks, however, when he saw Agent Murphy leaning against the hood of his SUV.

“I'm not here to bring you in,” he said. “Reyes sent me to help.”

“Help? Why would I need your help?”

“Because two agents are better than one,” Murphy replied. “And Reyes wants to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Why’d she send you then?” Bellamy swung into the driver’s seat, and Murphy followed on the passenger side.

“You flatter me Blake, but we both know you can’t pull this off on your own.”

Bellamy said nothing, but nodded after a while. “We do this my way.”

“We always do things your way,” Murphy muttered.

* * *

 

Dante Wallace stood in front of Clarke, diamond studded ear and Rolex wrapped wrist glinting in the spots of light falling through the roof of the warehouse. She met his smug grin with a face of stone, feeling the plastic ties on her wrists for weak spots but finding none. The air was wet and smelt like the sea.

“Do you know who your husband works for, Ms Griffin?” he asked.

“A law firm,” she replied truthfully. “Pearson Hardman.”

Dante looked pained. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, Ms Griffin, but that’s a lie. In fact, your husband’s line of work is more similar to James Bond than it is to anyone in that law firm.”

“What?” Clarke said. “No, I’ve visited him at work. I’ve brought him lunch, I’ve seen the paperwork-“

“Ms Griffin,” the billionaire interrupted. “Your husband is a spy for the C.I.A. He’s quite good at faking a few documents and being where he needs to be at any given time. To be honest, he trained to do so.”

Clarke groped for words. _Bellamy, C.I.A.? That can’t be right. He’s a family man._

“In fact,” Dante continued. “He was sent to spy on me. However, he’s not as good of a spy as he thought he was, which is why we’re sitting here having this conversation.”

“What do you need me for” Clarke said. “I teach high school! I don’t know any C.I.A. secrets.”

Dante laughed. “No, Ms Griffin, you’re not here to rat out the American spy agency. You’re here as bait. You see, your husband is currently running around looking for you. And once I have him, I have information.”

A single tear slipped down Clarke’s cheek, but she kept her face stony. “He was only doing his job. You don’t need to punish him for that.”

“Oh, I’m not punishing him for doing his job. He stole something from me, and I’m just returning the favor. Whatever predicament Bellamy throws himself into after that is his own doing.”

Dante turned and began to leave the shed, but Clarke stopped him with a yell. “What did he even take from you? What’s so important?”

The man turned and smiled. “He took the plans for Project Exodus.”

Clarke frowned. “Project Exodus,” Dante elaborated. “I’m going to buy half of New York and blow it all up.”

With that he turned and left, leaving Clarke bound on the concrete floor of the shed. “God dammit Bellamy,” she yelled, her voice echoing in the damp, salty air.  

* * *

 

Dante made his way to his sleek black Ferrari. The sound of seagulls and shipping bells mixed through the freezing wind. His chauffer opened his door, and he slid into the warm interior of the back seat of the car.

His head of security, Finn Collins, sat in the driver’s seat. “The wife knows something,” Dante said. “She barely reacted when I told her about Blake. Find out what she’s hiding.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy and Murphy had pulled over in a side street in Downtown Brooklyn. A map of New York was spread over the hood of Bellamy’s SUV, and the two agents were cross referencing Monty and Jasper’s data with the map.

“This guy owns too much stuff,” Monty said. “What even is the purpose of four skyscrapers? Isn’t one big enough?”

Bellamy ignored him. “We need to find areas with little to no traffic. Remote, hard to access without a good reason, and owned by Wallace.”

“I don’t mean to pour lemon juice all over your sugar of a plan, but that’s almost every building he owns. No one can enter his skyscrapers without reason to, and the same goes for his housing sites, boatsheds, boats. Everything he owns is private to some degree.”

Bellamy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Then we need to think like him. Where would you take an asset if you knew the C.I.A. was on your tail?”

“Somewhere hidden in plain sight. The C.I.A. is good at over thinking situations. If I had to hide someone, I’d hide them somewhere obvious.”

“So a shed, warehouse, or skyscraper.” Bellamy slammed his hands down onto the hood.

“Woah, woah,” Murphy backed away from the sound. “Calm down. We don’t know if he’s done anything to her.”

“He might have!” Bellamy started yelling. “This is taking too god damn long. He could’ve killed her, hurt her. I swear to God, if he has laid a _finger_ on her I’ll-“

“Save it for Wallace, okay? When we find her, you can do whatever you want to him.”

Bellamy opened his mouth, but took a deep breath and leant against the hood instead. “I miss her,” he admitted.

“I know,” Murphy put his hand on the other agent’s shoulder. “Go call Jasper. He’ll narrow down the search for us.”

As Bellamy nodded and walked off to make the call, Murphy pulled out his own phone and dialed Director Reyes.

“Is Blake cooperating?” she asked.

“Of course. Wallace has his wife. This is easier than cutting cake.”

“Is he still in the dark?”

“He has no idea. The Horse’s identity is safe.”

“Keep it that way, Agent Murphy. Let me know if the situation changes.”

Murphy was back to studying the map when Bellamy finished his call. “We should get going,” he said. “I don’t want to be seen.”

As the agents drove off, Murphy couldn’t help but think of the consequences of lying to Bellamy. There was no way this ended without him finding out about the Horse, so wasn’t it easier to tell him before all hell broke loose?

Director Reyes' words flashed through his mind. It would seem Murphy had no choice.

* * *

 

Clarke could see the sun setting through the holes in the shed. She had narrowed down her location to three spots: a dock, an abandoned storage container on the coast somewhere, or an old building near the docks. The plastic ties on her wrists were beginning to gather salt, and her skin was near tearing with the strain.

His loud footsteps preceded Dante’s entrance. He’d changed out of his formal suit into some less extravagant pants and a blue business shirt, yet they were no less expensive. The Rolex and diamond remained. He carried a bottle of water and a sandwich.

Dante came and sat across from Clarke on the cold floor. _He can probably afford to ruin those pants,_ she thought.

“Now, Ms Griffin,” he began. “I have a proposition for you. If you tell me what you know about your husband, you can have food and water. If not, I will leave and take these with me. Do you understand?”

Clarke said nothing, but her eyes flicked to the sandwich. Her stomach growled in agreement, and Dante smiled, like he thought he was going to win this round.

“What could you possibly need?” she asked. “You seem to know more about him than I do.”

“I only know his real occupation. You know his friends, what he likes to do in his spare time.” Dante gestured at the food and water, and Clarke felt herself straining towards them. _What harm can it do? Bellamy’s coming to find me anyway._

She suddenly thought of him, sleeping next to her in their bed, refusing to eat spicy food, giving her a massage when he knew she’d had a tough day. Clarke knew he would never forgive her if she helped this man get ahead of him.

“I’m not hungry,” she said, meeting Dante’s cool blue-green eyes with her own defiant ones. The man’s expression soured, his grin turning down at the corners.

He grabbed the food and water stood abruptly. “You’re only sealing your own fate, Ms Griffin. If you think your husband can save you, you’re mistaken.”

“I can save myself,” Clarke said, but she only heard the door to the warehouse swing shut and a latch slide into place. Looking at the empty spot where the food used to sit, she whispered those four words over and over. _I can save myself, I can save myself, I can save…_

* * *

 

“Jasper. What have you got for us?”

Bellamy heard the click of a keyboard on the other end of the line as Murphy put the phone on speaker. The two were making their way to Dante’s largest skyscraper; they planned on surveying the building for anything suspicious. “The file you found on Wallace’s computer was encrypted. It can only be accessed from his laptop.”

“Did you crack it?” Murphy asked

“Of course. Who do you think I am, agent? An ordinary computer nerd?”

“We don’t have time for flirting, ladies,” Bellamy said. “What did you find, Jasper?”

“The file is called the Exodus Project.”

“That can’t be good,” Murphy said sarcastically.

“It’s actually very far from good,” Jasper’s voice adopted a serious tone. “Wallace plans to blow up half of New York.”

Murphy frowned. “Why would he want to do that?”

“He wants to convert the land into a nuclear waste zone, and he needs to get rid of all the buildings. He has illegal nuclear energy plants set up all over the world. I think he’s building bombs.”

“Bombs?” Bellamy asked. “What does he need bombs for?”

“I don’t know. The file doesn’t have that information, but judging from the size of the project, he’s building enough bombs to start a nuclear war.”

All three agents fell silent as they processed the information. “Have you found anything else?” Bellamy asked.

“Wallace owns twenty three abandoned boat sheds all over the coast of Brooklyn. I'm using security footage to try and figure out which ones he’s been using. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Thanks Jasper,” Bellamy hung up the phone.

Murphy started cracking his knuckles. “Why the hell would someone want to start a nuclear war? What would you gain if half the world was rubble?”

“Power,” Bellamy said. “Isn’t that what this whole thing’s about? Controlling me, Clarke, the C.I.A. Isn’t it always about power?”

The streets of Brooklyn flashed past the window of the car. _Raven has power over you,_ Murphy thought. _A secret you were never supposed to uncover. She’s dangling it right in front of you and you don’t even know._

* * *

 

Agent Kane came into Raven’s office. Kane hated that someone years younger than him had beaten him to the position of director after Jaha was moved, and Raven always felt an immature smugness when she was around him. She refrained herself from smiling at his stormy expression.

“Is there any information on the Horse?” Raven asked.

“None that’s come through yet, director,” Kane replied, the word _director_ falling out of his mouth awkwardly.

“And Trojan, he remains in the dark?”

“He’s unaware of the situation.”

Raven nodded. “The location of the Horse is known, isn’t it?”

“We had Agents Byrn and Miller tail the vehicle. We are certain we have their location.”

“What about Agent Blake? The other one, Octavia.”

“She knows we’re keeping something from her. She has an influence over the tech, Jasper Jordan. It won’t be long before she finds out.”

“Keep her in the dark for as long as possible. We don’t need her groping about in our business. She’ll only make it worse. You are dismissed, Agent Kane.”

As if summoned, Octavia Blake flew into Raven’s office moments after Kane had left. “I don’t care if this is classified information,” she said forcefully. “We both know I can go to Jasper and have him spill everything you’re trying to hide.”

Raven sighed inwardly. “There’s nothing to hide, Agent Blake.”

“I know Bellamy’s supposed to be here. His assignment finished yesterday night. His wife isn’t answering the phone and neither is he, so if you think I don’t know something’s wrong then you aren’t as good a director as you think you are.”

Octavia had always intrigued Raven. She had little to no verbal filter, and didn’t mind who heard what she said as long as _someone_ heard it. Although her forwardness could be taken as disrespect, Raven found she was one of the best agents they had. _Simple, direct and effective_ , she liked to think.

“I’m in no position to share that information with you, agent,” Raven said calmly. “The situation is more delicate than you know.”

Agent Blake opened her mouth, but the director cut her off. “I don’t have time for a rant. We are in the middle of one of the biggest operations we have ever been in. If you don’t have anything useful to tell me, you know the door opens from the inside.”

Octavia turned to leave, her face red with anger, but Raven called her back. “This isn’t some simple extraction operation, agent,” she said, meeting Octavia’s fuming eyes with her own calm ones. “Be careful what you get yourself caught up in.”

After Octavia had left, Raven dialed Murphy. “Blake’s sister is insisting on getting involved, so don’t be surprised if she shows up on your doorstep. The situation is already messy, Agent Murphy. Don’t let it get messier.”

* * *

 

Jasper and Monty had been working non-stop since Clarke was kidnapped. The pair had been sleeping in shifts, and Monty was snoring in his desk chair when Jasper accessed the security cameras around Wallace’s boatsheds.

Three figures had made their way to the sheds little over a month ago. Jasper was about to skip over the footage when something caught his eye.

One of the figures, a short blonde woman, was facing the camera with her head turned to the side. But Jasper wasn’t focused on her face; it was her necklace that stood out. He remembered Bellamy talking avidly with Octavia about that necklace, the Christmas after his wedding.

“Clarke,” he whispered. “What were you doing at Dante Wallace’s boat yard?”


	4. Chapter 4

Octavia had shown up at Dante’s third skyscraper, the night after Clarke was taken. Bellamy knew how Jasper operated, so he wasn’t surprised when she beat them to the location. He was concerned, however, as Murphy didn’t seem surprised either.

“Took you long enough, O,” Bellamy said, allowing himself to call her by her nickname.

“What did you have to do?” Murphy asked. “Kiss Jasper? Agree to take him out for dinner? Did you do the whole ‘if you show me yours then-‘”

“Actually, Murphy,” Octavia cut in. “I just asked. It’s baffling how far being polite to someone can take you.”

“I’ll send you both back to Reyes if you don’t pay attention,” Bellamy glowered. “Clarke’s been missing for twenty three hours. We’re running out of time.”

Octavia came and stood next to her brother. “Clarke’s tough. She’ll make it through this.”

Bellamy’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “Jasper, did you find something?”

“Actually, it’s Monty,” the tech corrected. “Jasper’s sleeping. And yes, I did find something. Wallace purchased a boatshed a little over a month ago, but before that it was abandoned for nearly twenty years. It’s in terrible condition, and the landlord stopped inspecting as no one was using it.”

“The perfect place to hold an asset,” Bellamy said. “Thanks Monty.”

He turned to the others. “We have a location.”

* * *

 

Jasper had the footage from the boatshed open, and was playing it over and over again. No matter how many times he changed the speed, the zoom, the quality, the necklace was still Clarke’s necklace. _But it can’t be Clarke,_ he thought. _Can’t it?_

After near to an hour of rewinding and playing, he stormed out of his office and into the director’s, taking his laptop with him.

Director Reyes looked up from her work. “What can I help you with Agent Jordan?”

Jasper put his laptop in front of the director and focused on the necklace. “What is Clarke Griffin doing at Dante Wallace’s boatshed?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her face remained passive.

“This necklace,” Jasper stabbed a finger at the screen. “Bellamy bought that for Clarke the Christmas after their wedding. The charm cost him half his pay without the chain. He had this carved specially for Clarke. I know this necklace, and it’s hers.”

“Agent Jordan, I don’t think you realize what you’re insinuating. Do you believe Clarke is a C.I.A agent?”

“It’s possible. The whole point of the C.I.A is _secret identity.”_

“I can assure you, Agent Jordan, Clarke isn’t C.I.A. You have access to all our records. If you want to be sure, you can check.”

Jasper sighed, before grabbing his computer and leaving. Raven waited until he was out of the room before dropping her smile and grabbing the phone.

“Agent Jordan has accessed the footage. The Horse is no longer safe. I’m coming to join you, Agent Murphy. Do what you need to keep Blake from that boatshed.

* * *

 

Octavia and Bellamy were stationed in the SUV, waiting outside the boatshed. Murphy had gone to take a call from Monty, or so he said. Bellamy couldn’t shake the feeling that the agent knew more that he was saying.

Murphy swung back into the car. “Monty said a camera a few blocks from here picked up a black Ferrari entering to this direction, but not leaving. It’s not safe yet.”

“I’m getting tired of waiting,” Bellamy said fiercely. “Every moment we delay is another moment Clarke’s trapped in there with that psycho.”

Bellamy had felt lead in his stomach ever since Clarke was taken, but having her so close while he could do nothing only solidified his feelings of desperation. He strained to run into the building and take her in his arms, hold her until she remembered everything was fine.

“We can’t just storm the palace,” Murphy said. “No one knows how many people are in there. We could all be dead before we have time to say ‘princess’.”

“Murphy’s right,” Octavia jumped in before Bellamy could retaliate. “There’s no point. We need to survey the area before going in.”

Bellamy resigned, knowing that the other two were being logical. They split up; Murphy went around the back, Octavia went to the side and Bellamy came from the front.

“I can’t see anything,” Murphy said over the wire. “The place seems empty.”

“It can’t be,” Bellamy replied. “Keep looking. Octavia, can you see anything?”

“Nothing,” Octavia said. “Although I can hear someone moving around inside.”

Bellamy pressed his ear to the door. Muffled voices, belonging to men, drifted through the holes in the wooden door.

“We have to go in,” Bellamy said forcefully. “She’s in there, I know it. I can’t just wait out here for Wallace to kill her.”

Octavia began to speak, but she was cut off by a jagged scream from inside the shed. Bellamy sprang up, gun loaded in his hand, while Octavia and Murphy yelled for him to stop.

He burst into the shed, ready to eliminate anyone who came between him and Clarke, but she was nowhere to be seen. Dante Wallace stood in front of Bellamy, with a brunette woman and a sober guard by his side. The woman was smiling evilly, and Bellamy saw the lure and trap, but it was too late to back out.

“Mr Blake,” Dante said gleefully. “How kind of you to join us.”

* * *

 

Bellamy, Octavia and Murphy were brought to a secondary boatshed, ridiculously close to the shed in which they were captured. Clarke was sitting with her hands tied on the shed floor, and Bellamy felt his heart jump at the sight of her. She returned his feelings with a blank face.

They were left alone, the door latched from the outside, but no one said a word. Bellamy sat opposite Clarke, yet she refused to meet his eyes. After minutes of silence, Murphy sighed loudly and shifted on the floor.

“Apparently no one’s going to talk about the angsty love elephant in the room,” he said. “So I’ll ask the burning question: how do we get out of here?”

“Wallace has one man at the main door,” Clarke replied quickly, her voice steady and strong. “Wallace trusts this man the most. He has two other men at the bigger door at the back, and one down each side of the building. As for a way out, if any of you can use your superspy powers to cut the cuffs and bust us out of here, now would be a good time.”

The others looked at her, eyes wide. Bellamy felt the feeling that something was off begin to creep into his mind. _A woman in panic wouldn’t canvas the property,_ he thought. _But maybe I underestimated her._

He saw Murphy and Clarke exchange a look, although he couldn’t tell what it meant. Bellamy looked back and forth between the two. _What am I missing?_

Octavia shot him a glace. _Talk to her,_ it said, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in a room full of secrets he wasn’t in on. Swallowing, he turned to Clarke.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he began, and Clarke looked him dead in the eyes. “I should have. I should’ve trusted you, but I let my work become more important.”

“Yes, you did,” she said. “You let what you do control you. You faced it alone. You know we face things together, and you still didn’t tell me.”

“Oh, but Ms Griffin, can you really say that?” Dante Wallace waltzed into the shed.

He spread his hands at the silence. “With all you’ve been through, as a couple, with everything that’s been aired, you still wish to keep secrets from him?”

Clarke opened and closed her mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry to have to do this, but if you won’t…” Dante turned to Bellamy. “Ask your wife what the Trojan Horse means to her, but don’t hate me if she tells the truth.”

No one spoke. “You’ve made a mistake,” Clarke scrambled.

But Dante only stood by idly. “Go on,” he demanded, looking at Bellamy. “Ask her.”

When his wife refused to meet his eyes, Bellamy realized he _was_ in a room full of secrets, and Clarke knew all of them. “What is he talking about?”

“Nothing! I don’t know!” Clarke sounded desperate.

“Clarke, tell me!” Bellamy demanded. “You just said we face things together. What are you not telling me?”

“Oh, you can talk!” she yelled, and opened her mouth to continue, but was interrupted.

”The Trojan Horse was an operation coined by the C.I.A.,” Murphy said. “One or more agents, known as agent A or The Horse, would purposely be taken in by the target, Trojan, and proceed to gather as much information from the inside as they could. Agent B would then put together a rescue mission, unaware of agent A, and the mission would go awry, leading agent C to the location. All agents would then be extracted.”

Bellamy let his brain process the information, before thinking, _it all makes sense. My identity being exposed, Raven allowing me to look for Clarke, Murphy being assigned. I was being played by my people._

“A Trojan Horse,” Octavia muttered. “Clarke was the Horse, wasn’t she?”

Still Bellamy said nothing. _Both of them held a secret identity?_ “Did you know?” He asked. “That you were being used as bait? That I would come find you? Did you know I was C.I.A., like you?”

Clarke didn’t reply, but Bellamy knew the silence meant _yes, yes to all._ He expected the guilt to vanish, but instead he felt angrier and sadder.

“I believe agent C should be coming any minute now,” Dante said, grinning. “Thank you, Agent Murphy, for pushing ahead of your own investigation.”

“Agent C isn’t coming,” Murphy laughed. “She’s already here.”

The door slammed inwards, and Raven came in, gun aimed and ready for use. The unconscious body of the guard was visible through the door.

“Game’s over, Wallace,” the director said. “You lose.”

But Dante only smiled, and Bellamy saw the pride in his eyes, the triumph. With his stomach plummeting through the floor, he locked eyes with Raven.

“Project Exodus,” he said, and Dante laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

“There is an entire SWAT team waiting for you outside,” Raven growled. “You can’t trigger any bombs while under arrest.”

“I don’t need to,” Dante said. “Clarke, how many guards do I have on this building?”

Clarke frowned. “Five.”

Bellamy saw Raven’s face drop. “There were only three.”

Dante laughed, before turning his back to Raven and putting his hands on his head. “Please, arrest me. I’m about to do something very terrible.”

Raven ignored him and untied her agents. “Find those men,” she ordered.

“Like we need telling,” Murphy said.

* * *

 

An hour later the five agents stood around the hood of Bellamy’s SUV. Clarke hadn’t spoken a word to him since Raven busted them out of the boatshed, and Bellamy felt that now wasn’t the best time to sort out their marital issues. A phone sat on the hood, and Jasper and Monty could be heard on the other end.

Murphy sighed loudly. “We’re wasting time. The bombs could go off at second.”

“We have time,” Raven said. “Wallace is a narcissist; he’s going to make a show out of this.”

“He’s opening another skyscraper tonight,” Octavia said. “The ceremony is at 8:30.”

Raven nodded. “That’s when it’s going to happen.” She checked her watch. “We have an hour and a half.”

“That’s not a lot of time,” Monty said through the phone.

“Thank you, Monty,” Bellamy replied. “Like we needed that pointed out.”

“Sorry-“ Monty began, but Jasper cut him off.

“For the bombs to have the biggest impact, they need to be located in specific places around the city,” he began. “One in the middle of the city, and at least six around the edges, and they can’t be on the surface or the damage won’t be significant enough.”

“The drains under the city,” Clarke said.

“Exactly. But they have to be, as I said, in specific locations, and the drains just can’t be any drains.”

“It’s a bomb,” Murphy said. “Does it matter?”

“Actually, yes, it does. Some of the drains are too deep, so a small portion of the ground would cave in, but that’s about it. If the drain is too shallow, the damage won’t be deep enough. Also, some of the drains are Civil War era, so not only do they contain gold Mr Wallace most certainly could put to use, they’re thick and almost impossible to blow up.”

“So we have the parameters,” Raven said. “What did you find?”

“At least a hundred drains running under the city fit the parameters,” Jasper began, and Murphy sighed. “However, whoever just sighed, only ten of them run through places someone clever would put them.”

Clarke’s eyes suddenly lit up. “There are seven. I remember hearing two of the guards talking a few days ago. They said ‘seven isn’t enough’ and ‘they have to be in the right spot’.”

“Six around the outside, one in the middle,” Octavia muttered. “How are we going to disarm seven bombs located around New York City?”

Raven was quiet for a second. “We have to go to the source. Find the person triggering the bombs and take them out.”

“Safe houses,” Bellamy thought out loud. “Somewhere the bombs won’t touch.”

“What if they're using Wallace’s skyscrapers?” Clarke asked.

Keys clicked furiously on the other end of the phone. “They’re all in the exact spots the bombs won’t touch,” Monty said.

“There’s four towers including the one opening tonight,” Raven said, her voice switching to agent-in-action mode. “Everyone take one tower each, and a few members of the SWAT team.”

“There are five of us,” Bellamy questioned.

Raven turned to him. “You go with Clarke.”

* * *

 

Despite being in a race against time to save an entire city, and his reckless and extremely fast driving, Bellamy sat through one of the longest and most awkward car rides ever. Clarke didn’t speak, or meet his eyes, and the silence in the car was broken only by the screeching of car tires as Bellamy whizzed around corners.

Finally, he couldn’t take it. “Did you know I was C.I.A.?”

“Yes. My clearance is higher than yours.” Clarke said strictly.

And that ended the conversation. They pulled up outside the third skyscraper, the SWAT team just behind them.  Clarke nimbly loaded the handgun Raven had given her, testing the weight and sight and screwing on a silencer. Bellamy never thought he’d see her hold a gun.

He turned to the rest of the group. “We move in, sweeping floors in pairs. One team starts from the bottom, the next at the fifteenth floor, then the thirtieth, forty-fifth, and Clarke and I will take the sixtieth. Take the stairs between floors, not the elevators.”

The SWAT members made their way inside, and Bellamy and Clarke brought up the rear. “Do we have to run up sixty flights of stairs?” she asked.

“I said between floors, not to your floor.”

She nodded, before biting her lip nervously. “Don’t die,” she said.

He nodded. “Don’t die either.”

* * *

 

The sixtieth floor was empty. Clarke and Bellamy moved as a single unit, taking each other’s backs without thinking. _Raven was right to put us together,_ Bellamy thought.

The next floor was empty, and the next, and the next. It was only at the seventieth floor that things began to get interesting.

Instead of the rectangular layout of the previous floors, they entered a single hallway. Doors lined the walls, but Bellamy’s attention was drawn to the set of large double doors at the end of the hallway. Clarke started to move down the corridor, so Bellamy followed.

With a synchronization mimicking telepathy, Clarke stood flat to the side of the door, while Bellamy lined himself up with the door handle. With a swift kick, the couple moved inside.

The room behind the door contained three rows of computers against the back wall, all seemingly running on their own, apart from one, which was being controlled by a brunette woman. _The same woman from the boat shed,_ Bellamy remembered.

The woman looked up at the noise, but only smirked and returned to her work. “You can’t stop it,” a male voice rang out.

A young man stood behind several rows of computers. “He’s Dante’s second in command,” Clarke whispered. “Finn.”

Bellamy raised his gun. “I don’t think your computers can take a bullet.”

Finn smiled. “Yes, well, I’d like to see you try.”

With one fluid motion, Finn had his gun up and began firing. Bellamy dove on top of Clarke, pulling them behind the first row and protecting them from the bullets. “You take the woman,” Bellamy whispered to Clarke. “I’ll handle Finn.’

The hail of ammo ended, and Bellamy sprang up and returned the fire. Finn too dove behind a row of computers, and Bellamy’s bullets shattered glass and metal over his refuge. _Why aren’t the computers shutting down?_

He remembered the brunette behind the computer. _One ring to rule them all,_ he thought. _One computer to blow up most of New York city._

Bellamy risked a glance at Clarke, and saw her winning an easy fist fight, before he was tackled to the ground. He felt his gun slide away.

“Why not make it a fist fight?” Finn taunted. “Go at it like real men.”

Using Finn’s weight against him, Bellamy threw the smaller man off. “The only real man here is me. You’re just a coward with a rich boss.”

Finn’s face twisted and he lunged out with speed. Bellamy neatly dodged the attack and quickly delivered one of his own, sending his opponent stumbling backwards.

“You think taking innocent lives makes you a real man?” he shouted. “You think destruction for personal gain makes you anything more than scum?”

Bellamy could see his jabs cutting into Finn, but the other man remained calm, this time feinting to the right but delivering with the left. Bellamy’s ears rang from the blow, and he failed to see the second punch. He fell hard to the floor.

“You think spying for your country makes you a hero?” Finn yelled. “You’re nothing but a cheat, a liar! You’re as bad as I am.”

Bellamy stumbled back up. “I am not you. I'm not a murderer!”

With ease, Bellamy dodged the low punch, before using the gap in Finn’s defenses to slot in a sharp blow. In quick succession, he delivered another punch to the face and a kick to the gut, grounding Finn in a second.

Bellamy stood over him. “I act for the good of the innocent. You act out of greed, anger and cowardice. We will never be the same.”

But Finn only smiled, showing bloodied teeth. Before Bellamy could act, Finn grabbed the agent’s gun from the floor, aimed, and fired.

* * *

 

A single shot snapped Clarke from her fighter’s daze. She looked up in time to see Bellamy reel backwards from the bullet, and collapse.

“Bellamy!” she screamed, before registering her own abandoned gun on the floor. She quickly dove for the weapon, and fired into Finn’s chest.

The brunette woman howled, but Clarke’s eyes were fixed on her husband’s motionless form. She began to move towards him, but the brunette stopped her with a punch. The blow brought Clarke back to reality, and with a surge of fresh anger, she turned and tackled her opponent to the ground.

Punch after punch landed on the woman’s face, until Clarke heard a computerized voice call out “twenty seconds until detonation”.

Suddenly alone, the agent scrambled to the computer. She quickly registered the lack of an emergency abort button.

“How the hell do I shut this down?” Clarke yelled, but her voice only echoed. She suddenly remembered Bellamy’s voice not minutes earlier. _I don’t think your computers can take a bullet._

While the clock ticked into single digits, Clarke emptied her clip into the hardware.

* * *

 

Bellamy’s blood was hot on Clarke’s palms as she propped him up against the wall. “Bellamy,” she called. “Come on, open your eyes.”

There was no response. “We have an agent down; I need an ambulance at the third location,” Clarke said into her microphone. “I repeat; we have an agent down. Come on, Bellamy. Open your fucking eyes!”

The ghost of a smile flitted over Bellamy’s lips. “Don’t swear at me, Clarke,”

“Jesus Christ, Bellamy,” Clarke stuttered. “I thought you died, I thought-“

“I'm not dead,” his voice was barely audible. “Not yet at least.”

“Don’t say that. You’re going to be fine. I won’t let you die.”

Bellamy laughed weakly. “I know that. You’re too stubborn to let me die.”

Clarke smiled, and tasted salt as her tears fell into her mouth. “You know me well.”

“Clarke, listen to me. You know that-“

“Don’t,” she shook her head. “Don’t speak like you’re going to leave me. I don’t-I don’t want you to leave me.”

“Clarke, listen,” Bellamy’s voice, although weak, was determined. “I need to know you heard me say this.”

Clarke closed her eyes as more tears fell. “I love you, and I don’t care that you lied to me. Hell, I lied to you too, only you already knew about it.”

“Bellamy-” Clarke began, but she was cut off.

“Let me finish. I have to know that you-that you forgive me. And that I returned this to you.”

A bloodstained piece of metal was pressed into Clarke’s hand. _My silver crown._

Clarke let out a sob. “I forgive you, Bell, I forgive you. I love you too.”

Bellamy smiled, and Clarke saw his chest fall and not rise again.

* * *

 

Raven sat across from Clarke, her hand folded over her expensive grey suit. A single manila folder sat on the desk. Clarke had changed her usual work suit for a simple peach blouse and black jeans.

“Every detail of the events occurring on January 19th is in this folder,” Raven began. “Along with the C.I.A. profiles of you and Agent Blake.”

Clarke continued staring at the floor. “Agent Jordan is going to burn this folder.”

At that, Clarke looked up. Raven smiled at her, but gained no response. “You understand how this works, don’t you?”

“I’m erased from all databases over the world,” Clarke began. “Wallace knows my identity. I’m relocated, and begin my life again.” Her hand absently reached for the silver crown hanging around her neck.

Raven placed a plane ticket and a passport on top of the folder. “This will take you wherever you want to go.”

“I have a life here,” Clarke said. “Friends, my mother. I can’t just pack my bags and leave.”

Raven nodded. “Your mother has been informed of the situation, while your friends are under the impression you took a job in Shanghai. Everything is sorted. You’re ready to leave, Clarke.”

Swallowing, Clarke grabbed her passport and ticket from the desk and turned to leave. “And Clarke?” Raven called. “I think you’ll find this journey may not be as hard as you’re expecting.”

Clarke nodded and made her way out of the office, but stopped dead with the door half open.

“I heard Rome is nice at this time of year,” Bellamy grinned.  


End file.
